Why I Can't Love You

Why I can't love you

I had had enough of this. For more years then I could remember, I had been fawning over Harry. And he seemed to always just shrug me off. Like I was a nonentity, something that didn't deserve his love. But this year, no... today, I would find out why. He was, after all staying in my house, and I deserved that much.

It took nearly half the day before I could muster the strength to even leave my room, if you could call my hole in the wall that. In god's honest truth, I had the biggest bedroom in the house, a plus side of being "Daddy's Girl". It still wouldn't classify as a room in most modern countries thought. The ceiling was getting lower and lower each passing year, and my bed took up most of the far wall. I did have a nice window seat though. And I had covered it in a rich red velvet. I was also the only child with their own fireplace. A great brick-red edifice with a mantle lost under wizard photographs. Pictures of births, Harry, friends, family (that took up most of the mantle) Harry, my roommates, the Quidditch World Cup, Harry....My walls had a warm tone to them too, a honeysuckle brown that made it feel cozy and safe. Mum insisted I have a safe haven to go to in the holidays. I think she feels bad I have so many brothers sometimes.

I caught him on his way to the bathroom. He was, of course, looking gorgeous and ruffled at the same time. His hair was sticking every which way, except down, and his glasses were hanging off one ear.

"You'd better hide Ron!" he yelled, putting his glasses back on with a grin. "Don't think you're not gonna get it for this one!"

He turned around and nearly bumped into me. I could see that one of his eyebrows was singed off, and I could only imagine what Ron had done to him.

"Lo Gins," he said, putting little thought into it.

Time to grab the bull by the horns I thought quickly. Then my mind trailed off to where exactly did this bull keep his horns and I muffled a giggle. Enough! my mind yelled Go for it!

I grabbed him by his arm (good god, I was touching his arm!) and spun him around. OK, time to get assertive. I almost lost it when he looked at me, I could fell that all to familiar sense of falling in puddles of liquid emerald...but I remembered my mission and shook off the fantasy that had begun to creep into the corners of my mind. I swallowed, and lifted my chin. In the strongest voice I could muster, I let out, "Harry? Why won't you go out with me?"

It was a brazen question, and I knew it. But I had asked him out more times than I could count, and I needed a reason. Beside, Seamus was cute. Might as well see if I should give him a chance...

He looked more than taken aback. I thought I had killed him, the look on his face was so tortured. His eyes did a quick flash around the room, his insecurities after half a life in a box surfacing. It was adorable. He blinked more than was necessary, and gulped as if it was a demon he was facing, and not his best friend's little sister.

I was crushed.

After his eyes had all but fallen out of his head, he started kicking around a pile of dirt only he could see. Was Harry Potter, slayer of world evil....afraid to answer?

"Gins...look. I want to but..."

"Look," I said, before I could bite my tongue. "Unless you have a solid reason why you would never go out with me, I don't want to hear it. None of this 'I don't want to ruin our friendship' crap. Because as of now, I don't want to be friends with you, Harry Potter! I'm sick of it! Sick of all of this!" I made a wild, sweeping motion with my arms, indicating nothing in particular. But he got the point.

He took a step back, and I swear, he almost shed a tear. Then, faster then I knew what happened, he had rushed back into Ron's room and locked the door, all trips to the bathroom forgotten. I heard Ron muffle an exclamation of surprise, but Harry either responded so softly I couldn't hear, or was too embarrassed to say anything at all.

Furious, I stomped back to my "safe-haven", and slammed the door with all the strength I could muster. I heard George yell from downstairs, but I ignored him. I didn't feel like laughing right then. I felt like crying.

I ran to my bed, and pulled out an old shoebox from underneath it. Inside was everything I had ever found of Harry's and never given back. A S.P.E.W. badge, a Creevy-improved badge from the Triwizard tournament, a quill he had dropped, a rough draft of the Valentine-Elf song, old homework he had lent to Ron (and I had stolen), stupid stuff. Pointless, valueless crap. I treasured it all.

Slowly, my hand moved to my fireplace. With a flick of the wrist, the box was engulfed in flames.

That night, a letter was forced under the crack in my door. At first, I didn't want to read it, and let it sit there. But it nagged at the back of my brain like the pink elephant in the room no one wants to acknowledge, and I bent over to pick it up. It was an old owl post envelope, with the name "Padfoot" crossed out, and mine written underneath. In Harry's penmanship. My heart plummeted as I slipped my finger under the seal.

Inside was a picture of me, except I never remembered taking it. I was standing next to Harry, on the Quidditch pitch, and we had our arms on each others shoulders. We were laughing, and kept looking up at the sky, where the Gryffindor Quidditch team had been using a Quaffle to try and hit the Whomping Willow. Now, I might be forgetful, but if I was EVER that close to Harry I would remember it. The robes on the players looked odd too. There were out of style, and the clothes they had on underneath were covered in paisleys and rainbows. At the bottom, was a wizard-post it with Harry's handwriting on it. Pulling it off, I quickly gazed at what he had written and gasped.

Ginny-

Don't remember this picture?

You shouldn't.

Because we're not the ones in it.

That's my Mum

Harry

I collapsed onto the floor, and let the tears that had threatened me all day fall.